


Don’t Mess With Us (Unless You Want To Burn)

by Demonic_Angel_511



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley are bonded, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Heaven and Hell retry the punishments, Hellfire, Holy Water, M/M, Married Aziraphale/Crowley, Powerful Aziraphale, Smart Aziraphale, Smart Crowley, Wings, but it still doesn’t work, powerful crowley, soul bonds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27777280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonic_Angel_511/pseuds/Demonic_Angel_511
Summary: They knew their plan wouldn't work forever.It was just to buy them some time really, but they did hope it would last a little longer than this.Even so, when the angels and demons showed up and dragged them apart, they had a slight plan. Only small, but angels and demons were rather predictable.OrHeaven and Hell try the whole 'punishment' gig over again - only this time, in front of every angel and demon in existence.In hindsight, they probably shouldn't have given Aziraphale and Crowley so much time to prepare.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 130





	Don’t Mess With Us (Unless You Want To Burn)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Love Indeed Is Light From Heaven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952516) by [prettybirdy979](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979). 



**Disclaimer: I don’t own Good Omens**

_**’Mental Speech’** _

—————

They knew their plan wouldn't work forever.

It was just to buy them some time really, but they did hope it would last a little longer than this.

Even so, when the angels and demons showed up and dragged them apart, they had a slight plan. Only small, but angels and demons were rather predictable.

And Aziraphale and Crowley were both smart and strong.

It was not for nothing that God entrusted Aziraphale with the Flaming Sword, and Satan chose Crowley to be The Serpent.

With Aziraphale's book collection, Crowley's network and their centuries of experience at their fingertips, the two took to finding a way to protect themselves.

They'd already become immune to each other's magic, not that they ever realized that was strange, which was the only reason Crowley had been able to walk into the church in 1945 without bursting into flames. However, they realized how far it stretched when Crowley accidentally leant against Aziraphale's bible collection and it didn't even tingle.

Aziraphale had cried out in horror when he saw, and then stopped in confusion when Crowley was perfectly unharmed.

After a few tests, they realized that nothing that was blessed by Aziraphale would harm Crowley, and nothing cursed by Crowley would harm Aziraphale.

They had a start.

The two of them started letting more and more of their magic and auras mix, blurring the already thin line between them. Eventually, it ended with a formal bond, when they realized they practically had one anyway. Skills each of them had blossomed in the other, with Aziraphale suddenly being able to shape-shift, and Crowley being able to spark fire as a defensive tactic.

They worked harder than ever, honing abilities and strengthening their bond.

Aziraphale scoured through his books and uncovered protective sigils that Crowley had a man tattoo into their skin and clothes.

And then, as a final resort, they had their love formally - humanly - recognised.

Now, they were hoping that paid off.

Aziraphale didn't bother trying to resist as he was dragged along. He couldn't see anyway, so there really wouldn't be any point.

Instead, he reached out his senses, ignoring the kick he got for it, and focused, hoping to figure out who was around him.

Closest, he could feel the bright, harsh grace of the Archangels, Gabriel, Uriel and Sandalphon to be specific. He wondered absently where Michael was.

Further away, but getting closer came the slimy, wrong feeling of the Lords and Prince of Hell, and something else.

The scent of apples, smoke and the lightest traces of motor oil.

Immediately, his grace latched onto the familiar magic.

Crowley.

The magic suddenly flooded with relief as it entwined with his.

They may be in a bad situation, but at least they were in it together. And when they were together, there was a much higher chance of them coming out of that situation alive.

He held that thought close as they finally came to a stop, and he was shoved forward, just barely managing to land on his knees rather than his face. A second later, he heard a body impact the ground next to him, and the familiar magic settled.

The blindfold was ripped away non-too-carefully, and Aziraphale blinked at the surroundings. They appeared to be in the middle of a football stadium - the tiered seating around them split neatly through the middle, carving it up into two halves. He and Crowley knelt in the centre, their hands tied behind their backs, surrounded by three archangels and three high-demons. 

His eyes roved around, seeing patterns, and allowing them to unfold in his mind, reading possible escape routes, possible hiding spots, noting down things about their captors. In the back of his mind, he felt Crowley doing the same, their joint mental files updating and organising themselves.

At almost the same time, they looked to each other, eyes meeting before quickly flicking over the other, checking for injuries.

Crowley had a cut running down his right cheek, a small trail of ichor dripping down his face, and bruises around his arms where he'd been dragged, but apart from that seemed alright.

Aziraphale had matching bruises over his arms, the skin visible through his torn shirt - he had no idea where his waistcoat, bowtie and overcoat were - and a sluggishly bleeding cut on his left temple, the skin around it reddened.

Hastor caught them looking, and smirked, lashing out and kicking Crowley in the ribs. The demon let out a huff and shifted in order to not fall over, but Hastor ignored him, instead focusing on Aziraphale's reaction.

The angel felt anger build up inside him, but shoved it down, where it simmered deep in his chest. There was a well of it built up there over the centuries, but he knew he had to keep it there for now. Anger could be used, but it needed to be harnessed and controlled first.*

*For all of his kindness and softness, Aziraphale was a warrior. He'd been trained to fight, and fight well, and he hadn't neglected that training throughout his time on earth. He knew how to manage and use emotions to his benefit.

Gabriel turned to Beezlebub. "Are you ready?"

The Prince of Hell nodded and turned to face the seats on the left. Gabriel turned to the seats on the right.

"Angels of the Host!"

"Demonz of the Hoard!"

With a flash of light and the smell of ozone, ten million Angels appeared in the seats. Then, with a rumbling and the stench of sulphur, ten million Demons filled the rest of them.

"Angels of the Host!" Gabriel repeated. "We bring before you the Traitor Aziraphale and the Demon he befoulled himself with!"

Aziraphale let out a protesting noise, unheard under the cries of the rest of the angels, but he'd gone for too long denying Crowley to not defend him now he could. Besides, the Demon knew he had done it, and that's what mattered to him.

"Demonz of the Hoard!" Beezlebub cried, managing to get at least a little emotion into her voice. "We bring before you the Traitor Crowley and the Angel he failed to corrupt!"

The Demons roared in outrage, but neither Crowley or Aziraphale were listening.

 _ **'Aren't they contradicting themselves?'** _Crowley asked through their bond, laughter filling his mental voice.

 _ **'Yes.'**_ Aziraphale replied, amused. _**'I believe they are.'**_

The two leaders turned back to them, victorious smirks on their faces. They gestured at Sandalphon and Haster.

Sandalphon thrust a hand in front of him, and a bathtub full of water appeared in front of Crowley.

Hastur gestured with one hand, and a tower of Hellfire appeared in front of Aziraphale.

"Traitor Aziraphale." Gabriel intoned.

"Traitor Crowley." Beezlebub added.

"For the crimes of fraternizing with the enemy, influencing the Antichrist to stray from his destiny and working together to prevent Armeggeddon, we sentence you to death." They finished together, grins of triumph on their faces.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at them, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

The triumph turned to bewilderment. 

"Why are you laughing?" Uriel eventually asked after a couple of moments.

"You-You honestly think," Aziraphale began, his face slightly red.

"That _we_ ," Crowley continued, almost doubled over from hilarity.

"Can make _Adam_ ," Aziraphale said between laughs.

"Do anything?" Crowley finished, gasping for breath as he cackled.

Gabriel growled and gestured harshly to the Angels surrounding Aziraphale. Roughly, they grabbed him and dragged him forward, closer to the Hellfire. Aziraphale took a couple of deep breaths to stop himself laughing, before looking up at Gabriel again, feeling as Crowley was dragged forwards as well.

"Before, when we tried to bring these traitors to justice," Gabriel continued, swinging around to face the crowds again.

"They worked together to circumvent their punishments!" Beezlebub continued after a second.

Obviously, this speech had been rehearsed before. They had been planning this for a while.

"They shared their corporations with the other!" Gabriel cried out, to roars of disgust and outrage from both sides. Aziraphale and Crowley winced slightly as the emotions slammed into them, but they kept their heads up.

"And took the other's punishment!" Beezlebub finished. "So this time,"

"We will punish them both together!" Gabriel swung around to face Aziraphale. "Your trick won't work this time."

The Angels holding him stepped back, switching to hold Crowley as the Demons took a hold of him, starting to drag him forwards.

Aziraphale took a deep breath, hoping that all the planning had worked.

The Demons pushed him forwards, and a cry of triumph rose from all sides as he stumbled into the Hellfire.

Burning warmth surrounded Azirapahle on all sides, uncomfortable, prickling pain sparking under his skin. Aziraphale grit his teeth, thinking for a second that it hadn't worked, that everything had been for naught.

And then his bond to Crowley came alive.

Deep in his core, a small piece of Demonic essence sparked, and roared.

Aziraphale threw his head back, mouth open in a silent scream as fire roared through him, silver and red power exploding from his skin. The iris of his left eye glowed brightly, expanding to take over the entire eye as the pupil ballooned in size. His wings burst into existence, and the crowd shouted in excitement and shock as the feathers nearest his back started to turn black. 

"He's Falling!"

In the back of his mind, he felt the panic and fear that suddenly filled Crowley, and instinctively sent back calming waves, reassuring him.

The shouts spread, everyone leaning forward to watch, and then turned to confusement as the black faded into grey, working it's way up the wing, then silver, and then died off, leaving the tips white. Confusion became shock as a second set of wings opened below the first, before an eyespot appeared on each wing, blood red surrounded by a ring of bronze.

Power thrummed through him, and Aziraphale opened his eyes, just as the Angels threw Crowley into the Holy Water.

"No!" Aziraphale instinctively reached forward, despite knowing it was useless, as the water started to fizz.

It proved to be a lot less useless as the fire followed his hand, with Uriel and Sandalphon only barely scrambling out of the way of the tongue of flame that shot through the place they were standing.

Icy cold surrounded Crowley as he sank into the water, painful tingling springing up all over his body. Crowley grit his teeth, praying that all the work hadn't been for nothing.

His bond to Aziraphale flared into life for the second time.

Angelic essence bloomed in his core, and erupted.

The next second, Crowley burst through the surface of the water, golden and bronze power shining from his skin as his back arched.

His right eye filled with light, the slit pupil rounding into a normal shape, the golden iris darkening slightly. His wings snapped into being, the feathers at the tips becoming pure white.

The crowds gasped in unison.

The white spread down his wings, turning silver, then grey before fading out, leaving the ones near his back black. Then, a second pair of wings opened underneath, a bronze eyespot appearing on each, surrounded by deep red.

The Demon opened his eyes, and met the Angel's.

Together, they looked over at the archangels and high-demons.

And immediately burst out laughing again.

The six of them were staring at them, their faces not unlike when Aziraphale had pointed out that the Great Plan and the Ineffable Plan weren't the same thing.

At hearing the laughter, Gabriel's expression turned to pure rage. He snapped his fingers, conjuring a bucket, and threw it at Aziraphale.

Hastor and Dagon threw themselves back in the nick of time, as the water splashed all over Aziraphale, soaking him from head to toe and immediately cutting off his laughter.

The angel blinked and shook his head. "Seriously Gabriel?" He said, annoyance saturating his tone. "A hand in the bucket of water would have been enough proof, now we're both soaked!"

Crowley chuckled again at his angel’s affronted expression and climbed out of the bath, walking over to Aziraphale, pulling the angel into his arms. He snapped his fingers, and fire blazed up around both of them.

A second later, they stepped out, both bone dry, their injuries healed, and turned to face the six leaders.

"W-what are you?" Dagon hissed, disgust written all over her face.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged glances and shrugged in unison.

"Rebels."

"Traitors."

"Outcasts."

Their words echoed around the stadium, bouncing back and forth between them.

"Friends."

"Husbands."

"Family."

The crowd started muttering again as they spoke, a couple glaring at them, and a couple looking, curious.

"Guardians."

"Protectors."

"Soldiers."

At the final word, Aziraphale's sword shimmered into being in his hand, flames lighting up along its blade.

"We are many things." They spoke in unison, their free hands intertwining between them. "We have many titles, many labels, many names. But - we are _not_ your servants. Not anymore." They took a step forward, their wings rising and spreading out around them. "We _don't_ answer to you anymore. We do _not_ take orders from anyone but _God Herself_."

"You promised to leave us alone." Aziraphale stated calmly, looking each of them in the eye. "You broke that promise. So this time, swear in front of the entire Host and Hoard. You will leave us alone. You will not attack us, you will send no one to attack us, you will in no way cause us harm. We will see no one from Heaven or Hell unless we request it."

"We will continue our duties upon the earth." Crowley continued. "Heaven and Hell will receive souls when they die. But earth is our domain. Humans on the earth fall under our protection. You will not tamper with that."

"Do we have an agreement?" They both said quietly.

The Angels and Demons looked at each other. They looked at their wayward agents. And slowly, defeatedly, they nodded.

"Good." The Flaming Sword shimmered out of existence again.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked around at the crowd surrounding them, and at the defeated leaders in front of them.

And then they each raised a hand, and snapped.

The Holy Water and Hellfire dove at them, surrounded them in a hailstorm of flame and water, and then it imploded.

The two were gone.

The moment they arrived back at the bookshop, they fell into each other's arms, shaking, as the adrenaline slowly wore off.

For the duration of the time they were in front of the crowds, they had been suppressing their emotions, putting on a face of complete confidence and calm, however behind that, their emotions had been going haywire. They didn't know if their plan would work, and if it did, they didn't know how it would work.

For all their words to their former leaders, they didn't know what they were. They didn't know what had just happened.

For a long time, they stayed where they were, crumpled on the floor of the bookshop, wrapped around each other, as they tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

"Az?" Crowley whispered eventually. "What are we?"

"I don't know." Aziraphale admitted, his face hidden in Crowley's neck. His wings shimmered into being behind him, both pairs, the eyespot standing out against the soft gradient.

Crowley slowly slid one hand until it rested next to them, a silent request. Aziraphale lifted one wing to press into his hand, and he slid his fingers into the soft feathers, slowly stroking.

Aziraphale hummed in pleasure and shifted against his husband. "Does it matter what we are?" He asked quietly, lifting his head to look at Crowley, his mismatched eyes glowing slightly. "We're together, and we're free. For me, that's enough."

Crowley let a smile drift over his lips. "Yeah." He agreed, letting his own wings manifest, nudging at Aziraphale's hand, which obediently sank into his feathers. "Who cares. What we have is enough."

**THE END**

**AN: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed that! I’ve been stuck on this fic for months now, had it almost all written out but the ending just wouldn’t come. I’m still not entirely satisfied with it, but it’s probably the best it’s gonna get, so....**

**I don’t know. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.**  
**Demonic_Angel_511**


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